


Merry Christmas Darling

by iihappydaysii



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Canon Universe, Christmas, Established Relationship, Family Issues, M/M, Phil POV, a little sad, missing each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-18 01:44:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13089804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iihappydaysii/pseuds/iihappydaysii
Summary: Phil is missing Dan at Christmastime





	Merry Christmas Darling

**Author's Note:**

> WaveyDaysFICS Holiday Bonus!! 
> 
> Please go read @waveydnp 's fic on the same topic!! 
> 
> Happy Holidays, everyone!!

Phil wishes Dan were here with him, and he knows Dan wishes it too. He knows that if he left it entirely up to Dan, he would be. He knows that if it wasn’t for a little prodding from himself and Dan’s mum, then Dan would be set beside him on the floor right now, stuffed full of roast turkey and Christmas pudding. It’s pretty much the one time of year they’re apart and it feels like he’s missing a leg or lung or something. But Dan needs to spend some time with his own family and they’ve talked about trading off—one year here and one year there—but Phil knows it’s more complicated than that, and Phil’s anxiety isn’t great around people who don’t like him all that much anyway. He’d do it for Dan, though, if Dan asked. But he never has. 

So instead, Phil is sat crossed-legged on the floor of his parents’ living room. His back is pressed to the sofa, and the air still smells faintly like the rosemary and sage from the turkey. He can hear his mum laughing with Martyn and Cornelia, and the sound of his dad washing up a few of the dishes. Their artificial tree is glinting, the multi-colored lights gleaming on the window. The place is dim, lit mostly by an array of fairy lights and by the warm crackling glow of the fireplace.

It feels so exactly like Christmas. Like cozy warmth and comfort and family, but there’s also a little space of emptiness in his chest and beside him, a place Dan normally occupies. Phil tries his best not to bother Dan too much during the holiday because he knows this is Dan’s time with the other half of his family, but it doesn’t stop him from missing Dan, from knowing just how well he’d slot into the Lester family traditions.

“Merry Christmas Darling” is playing from the record player he and Dan had gotten Phil’s dad for his last birthday, and he thinks about how many Christmas songs are at least a little sad. He’s glad they are because, right now, he’s a little sad too. Phil closes his eyes and imagines that Dan is here and not there. He imagines that Dan is just in the kitchen right now, making hot cocoa for everyone, and that in just a few moments, he’ll walk right out here and place that warm festive mug in Phil’s hands. Dan will taste like sweet peppermint when he kisses him on the mouth. It’s silly because they’ve already had their Christmas together, and it was warm and wonderful like it always is—and their little traditions mean the absolute world to him. Still, _this_ is Christmas to Phil, and maybe he wouldn’t phrase it exactly like that to Dan, but it’s true. 

Phil loves his family—including Dan—and he understands why he can’t be here, but it still hurts, like a small, quiet ache.

Suddenly, Cornelia is standing in front of him in a green festive jumper. She drops a Christmas cracker crown on his head. 

“Why the frown, Little Lester?” she asks.

“I told you not to call me that,” he says, but it doesn’t _really_ bother him.

She sits down beside him. “Dan?”

“It’s silly.”

“It’s not. It’s Christmas. I’d want to be with Martyn on Christmas.”

“You are with Martyn on Christmas.”

Cornelia leans into him a little. “God, Phil. I didn’t mean to like…rub it in.”

“I know.” He sighs. “I’m just being…dramatic. It’s my fault he’s not here.”

“It’s a nice thing you do. He’ll regret it if he never sees them, especially his grandma.”

“I know. It’s more than that though. Being here, it’s a little…hard on him.” It was true that Dan would pick being with this half of his family over the other, but he also knows there’s something about Lester happiness that can wound Dan a little. 

Cornelia nods. “Yeah, I get it. Lester Christmas Card Syndrome.”

Phil gives her a funny look. “What?”

“You are all a little too perfect. Like you were plucked and dropped out of a Christmas card.”

“We’re not perfect.”

“Good can seem like perfect when you come from…not good.”

Phil picks at a string in his Christmas jumper, and doesn’t say anything. He knows Cornelia is exactly right. He knows it’s hard on Dan to see the childhood and the parents he wanted but didn’t have. Even if he’s only seeing what he thinks it is, not what it _actually_ is. Which is good. But not perfect.

Cornelia leans her head on Phil’s shoulder, and Phil leans his head on hers.

“You think he’ll ever…like when we have kids…?” Phil asks quietly, though he doesn’t know why he asks at all. Cornelia can’t predict the future anymore than he can.

“He’d come now, you know that, right? Even if it was hard on him.”

“It’s just…I want good, you know? Good like me and Martyn had it. I want our kids to feel happy about Christmas the way I did. Or do.” Phil sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Everyone feels a little sad at Christmas.”

Phil laughs because he’d just been thinking that. “I wonder why that is.”

“Because we’re human, and humans are all a little bit sad all the time. And Christmas—with all its flaws and contradictions—is one of the most human things there is.” She reaches down a hand to help up Phil. He takes it, and stands up as well.  “Come on,” Cornelia says. “Help me sort out the mince pie situation before Martyn eats them all.”

Mince pies remind him of Dan a little too much, and he feels sad again if he ever stopped feeling sad. Maybe Cornelia was right. Maybe you never stopped feeling sad, not really. But you could also feel other things at the same time—good things—and it doesn’t take long for Phil to remember that. 

Not when they’re stuffing their face with mince pies, and his dad is telling horrible Christmas jokes he got sent to him in a work email. Not even when they sit down for a game of Truth Bombs and his mum wins, and it’s kind of scary actually how good she is at it. And they all gather in front of the television and watch _Home Alone_ —and it’s like every other Christmas. He knows in a year or two he won’t be able to separate this one from all the other ones, but in a way that’s what’s good about Christmas. It’s like this thing that exists outside of time, like something that manages to happen all at once. 

They won’t open presents until tomorrow because his mum and dad still like to pretend Santa is the one bringing the presents and they’ll jingle bells and claim they’re from Santa’s reindeer. So, when things wind down and everyone is yawning, Phil slips up to his bedroom, gets into bed and texts Dan.

Phil: You still up?

Dan doesn’t text back, but Phil’s phone rings. 

“Hey,” Phil says.

“Hi,” Dan’s voice is so low it’s almost a whisper. “How are you?”

“Good. Stuffed. You?”

“Meh, I’m fine. I miss you.”

Phil let his eyes flutter shut. “God, I miss you too.”

There’s a beat of silence and then Dan says, “I’m coming to yours next year—”

“Dan—“

“Shut up. I am.”

Phil swallows and takes a steadying breath. “Did something happen?”

“No. It’s fine. But I’ll visit my family another time. Things are different now. You know, we’re older and…but I mean, only if you want me there.”

“ _Please,_ ” Phil says. “How are we so always on the same page?”

“That mental symbiosis you always talk about?” 

“Probably.” 

“How is everyone? Kath, Nigel…the whole gang?”

“Good, good. Mum killed everyone at Truth Bombs.”

Dan laughs. “Good on Kath. You need to be knocked down a Truth Bomb peg or two”

“Did you guys—“

“Nah, no one wanted to play.”

“I’m sorry, baby.”

“Oi, it’s totally alright. Less of a way for them to judge me, right? Besides, I think that picture of you birthing a game gives them mental images they can’t handle.”

“I don’t know what they’re on about. The miracle of birth is beautiful.”

“I love you so much.” Dan yawns. “God, I’m tired. People exhaust me.

“I love you too.” For a moment, Phil lets himself enjoy the warmth he’s feeling right now between the fuzzy blankets and the sound of Dan’s breath. “I’ll let you go. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,,” Dan says. “Good night, dear.”

“G’night.”

Dan hangs up, and Phil immediately misses him. It’s lonely in a bed without Dan. There’s too much space and too little warmth. It’s been so long since he’s slept alone on any kind of regular basis, and so it’s always hard to sleep without Dan. But Phil closes his eyes and lets himself feel sad about Dan not being here now. He also lets himself feel happy about a future where this bed is full of that signature Dan warmth. He’s sad because he knows that one day this will all be different too, nothing can last forever, though he thinks if anything has a shot it might be Lester family traditions. He’s happy too because he’s lucky to have ever had those traditions at all, and to be able to make new ones with their kids someday.

Phil grabs his phone and opens up Spotify. He searches for “Merry Christmas Darling” and lets Karen Carpenter’s voice sing quietly to him again.

_Merry Christmas Darling_

_We’re apart that’s true_

_But I can dream and in my dreams_

_I’m Christmas-ing with you._  

 


End file.
